


Run For Cover

by HeartEyesTurner



Category: Arctic Monkeys
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartEyesTurner/pseuds/HeartEyesTurner
Summary: Obviously Vertigo is the inspiration for this one; particularly his performance at The Troubadour.
Relationships: Alex Turner (Musician)/Reader
Kudos: 15





	Run For Cover

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t really dig the whole mushy vday scene; so this is my gift to you; some good old-fashioned smut. xx

  


You’re backstage at the Troubadour in West Hollywood, and you’re not quite sure how you’ve made it back there in the first place. You figure he must’ve seen something he liked when he chatted you up at the bar during the opening acts. He’s on in less then five minutes, but he’s still got you pinned up against the wall; feverishly making out with you because he’s knocked back a few to loosen up before he goes on and he just can’t seem to resist you.

It’s his cue to head to the stage, and he’s breathing heavy, licking his lips, but he takes one last look at you, grabs your face and kisses you hard; enough to knock the air right out of you. He points at you as he walks away, “I’ll beh reyt fuckin’ back… don’t yeh move.”

Shrill screams proceed his entrance, and they continued through his time traipsing about the stage. You would’ve loved to see him up there, but you had a feeling the show you were about to be treated to would more than make up for it. The two whole minutes he was gone felt like a lifetime, and the thudding of your heart against your ribs counted down the seconds until his return. You could hear the scuffle of his boots on the dingy floor of the club before you even saw him. He rounded the corner, sauntering down the hallway, with very little evidence that he’d even taken the stage, aside from his own sweaty palm print on the left thigh of his black trousers where he must’ve leaned against it. A forty five second performance in front of a crowd that mostly included girls half his age screaming his name wasn’t enough to get him riled up anymore.

Now you on the other hand…

He lifts his head as he approaches you, that expression on his face you’d seen him make countless times before online or onscreen; the pursed lips and the hollowed cheeks. It was the look that made his jaw so incredibly sharp, so incredibly angular, the very look that had millions of women weak in the knees, their panties wet and their bodies aching at the possibility of just _one_ chance to fuck him; the chance to see what the cut of that jaw felt like beneath their lips; what his skin smelled like with their nose pressed right close to it. 

Tonight that woman was _you_. 

“Yeh readeh?” He drawls, his voice deep. It’s not even really a question, it sounds more like a sure thing on his end, and you wonder how many times this exact same exchange has occurred; how many quickies backstage after shows, or in compact cubicles in bathrooms at afterparties?

You nod, your body on fire; still disheveled from earlier and the way he pawed at you, groping at you with hands that were surprisingly soft and gentle despite their obvious intentions. They moved; fully aware of the likely consequences; quick, and calculated and sure, because they’d traversed curves and bends similar to yours before.

You’ve been wet and throbbing since he left you, that fucking ache in the pit of your stomach gnawing at you, anxious for the moment when he satisfies you; fulfills every fucking dream, every fantasy that’s ever crossed your mind about him. You squeeze your thighs tight together in hopes to curb the sensation until he’s got his hands on you again.

With a nod of his head, he gestures for you to walk ahead of him; slapping your ass and giving it a salacious kind of squeeze. He likes to watch you walk, and he tilts his head to the side admiring your ass and your legs beneath the mini skirt. “Yeh’ve got a fuckin’ gorgeous ass,” He murmurs thickly, “and the sexiest lil’ strut.” 

You glance back at him over your shoulder, flashing him a quick smile, and giving him a come hither look that you didn’t even know you had in you. This was a one-time thing though, and you figured you should probably make the most of it; be that alter-ego of yours, the confident, sexy woman, completely and totally unfazed by the idea of Alex Turner wanting to fuck you senseless. 

Halfway down, there was a darker, dimmer hallway veering off to the left, full of boxes and other forgotten paraphernalia from the club. “Here?” You ask him, pausing to confirm.

He nods, his eyebrow raised as he looks back and checks the area you’ve just come from, sliding his thumbs inside the waistband of his tight black pants, adjusting them like a nervous habit, or something he does because it’s part of this persona he’s created for himself. Either way, his actions have drawn your attention to his waist, and you bite your lip, a flutter in your stomach when you remember how it felt beneath your hands just moments ago. 

Then you’re waiting for him, your back to the wall as he saunters up towards you, a lick of his lips and that thing he does with his tongue; pressing against the inside of his cheek. His whole demeanor has your body electric, like that uncomfortably exhilarating shock you get from static cling. 

He looks you up and down, his fingers swiftly undoing a few more buttons on his shirt, exposing more and more of his chest and you arch your body, unaware that you’re even doing it at first. With one last glance back down the hallway, his full attention is on you. You’re wearing a thin tank top, loose and tucked into a high-waisted tight skirt; soft, stretchy, perfect for hiking up when in desperate need of a quick-fuck with a handsome stranger. Except he’s not a stranger. You may not know him, but you _know_ him, know what he’s like, how he ticks; at least you think you’ve got an idea; the stage version of himself a caricature you’ve grown so accustom to, fantasized about with your fingers buried deep between your thighs, arching into them when you whisper his name, imagining he’s right there with you. 

The reminder that he’s here now, comes with the drag of his knuckles down your stomach, no hesitation as he presses them against you over the fabric of your skirt before slipping below the hem. 

There’s a feeling of triumph, the pleasure in seeing the realization on his face when he discovers you’re not wearing anything underneath. Perhaps he didn’t expect that from a girl like you, and admittedly you’d done it on a whim, checking your reflection in the floor length mirror, asking yourself; _but what if you meet him?_ Shimmying your panties back down your legs, you kicked them aside and admired yourself once more; feeling sexier, more daring than you had in your entire existence. 

Now in the present, when his fingers slip against you so easily, because you’re dripping for him, you thank the bad girl in you for coaxing you into taking a risk just this once; because it was paying off tenfold. He slides them between the folds of your pussy, his knuckles skimming your clit just enough to make you squirm, a whimper escaping your lips.

His eyes bore into yours, their intensity unsettling in a raw, animalistic kind of way. He holds a finger up to his lips, “Shhh…” 

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, bitting down hard enough to keep yourself silent enough for the time being. The smirk on his lips and the devil in his eye were every indication that Alex could give two fucks about being caught, regardless of how many times he’d checked over his shoulder for the slightest suggestion of prying eyes. 

He set his jaw, his eye contact heavy as his fingers circled your entrance, his thumb rubbing your clit in achingly slow strokes. It was like he’d discovered the lever to a hidden room; your legs parting for him without your consent, like the swinging open of a secret door. Your head lolled back, the middle and index fingers of his right hand sliding into you with ease, his knuckles flush against your damp heat. 

Alex grabbed at himself through his trousers, and you watched him hungrily through hooded eyes, watching as his fingers squeeze his cock, the outline clearly defined in those incredibly tight pants. Your knees buckle, your mouth watering, salivating because you can’t wait to see what’s waiting for you on the other side. You’re panting in suspense, in pleasure as his fingers pump in and out of your pussy with a roughness that implies his desperation for you. 

“Please…” You breathe, and those auburn eyes of his glitter with desire. He curls his fingers inside you, his middle finger searching for and locating that rough bundle of nerves deep inside you, pressing into it, playing with it as the sensations it delivers knock your hips back into the coolness of the plaster wall. The lights above you flicker, and he raises an eyebrow, that ever-present smirk on his face destroying you as he glances around. He curls his fingers again, and you cry out, your knees shaking, your ass hitting the wall again. The lights flicker for a second time.

“Hmph…” Alex leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, “Thas about teh get realeh interestin’ in a moment…”

His fingers left the wet warmth of your body, leaving you feeling empty again. Your eyes widen as you watch him bring them to his lips, his mouth closing around them to suck the taste of your arousal off. 

“Mmm…” He hums, licking his lips in satisfaction. “Love the taste of yehr cunt, babeh.”

You gasp and his kiss catches it, covering your mouth with his own, his tongue imitating the way his cock was going to fuck you. You moaned as his hips squared off with yours, his hand on your neck as he stepped forward, digging his hips into yours, his cock hard and thick and hot as he presses it against you.

His eyes flick over his shoulder once more, glancing at the open end of the hallway, making sure you’re alone one last time. His hand is back at your thigh, rucking your skirt up until it bunches around your waist. It’s balmy, and the air that caresses your sticky thighs feels like heaven. Sweat gathered at the base of your neck, your skin glistening, buzzing as it anticipated his next move. It occurs to you that he’s been the one doing all the touching, and your fingers itch to feel him again. The palms of your hands find his slim waist, his shirt slightly damp to the touch, tucked in tight enough for you to feel the definitions in his body.

His stomach muscles are taut, his chest heaving, and your dig your fingers into his hips for something to hold on to. He tilts your head back, angling it so he can rub his thumb across your throat. He’s relatively quiet, aside from the grunts and the heavy breathing, and his eyes are black now, ominous, fiery; no longer the pretty auburn they were when he’d first approached you at the bar and offered to buy you a drink. There was a part of you that wanted to think the dilation of his pupils was because he liked what he saw, but it was probably more akin to the fact that he was moments away from burying his cock deep inside you. 

He snarls when you shift your hips against him, rubbing yourself against the bulge in his trousers, the heat radiating from him only adding to the dampness between your legs. You needed him, needed to feel the head of his cock as it stretches you open; pushing into you hard and rough. 

Alex wet his lips, nearly baring his teeth as he licked a stripe from the base of your throat to your ear. He busied himself there, biting and sucking on you, leaving trace evidence on your skin in the form of bruises and indentations from where his teeth sunk in a little harder than they should’ve. Maybe it was his own sly way of marking his territory; tagging his prey before sending them stumbling in a daze back into the wild, their minds muddled with the way he managed to turn them out. 

His hand slid down your slick skin, yanking down the neck of your tank in the process, exposing your chest as he grabbed a fistful of your breast. He squeezed you roughly, taking another step closer to you, dipping his hips before grinding up into you again. You were tired of the teasing and the torture, and you snaked your hand between you to palm him; squeezing him just as hard as he’d done to you. The guttural moan that escaped his lips was dirty and obscene, and it vibrated its way down your body straight to the ache between your thighs.

“Fuck, babeh,” He growled, pushing your hand aside to undo his pants. You drifted your fingers up the veins in his forearm, chewing on your lip as he slipped his hand inside and pulled his thick cock out. Your pulse quickened and your mouth watered thinking about how you’d like to feel it shoved down your throat just as much as your aching pussy. The head was swollen, red and pulsing, and you watched greedily as his long, beautiful fingers stroked it, tugging on it before nudging your legs apart with his knee.

You both watched as he rubbed the head against your throbbing clit, his thumb holding it there as it slipped up and down, teasing you. You moan, much louder than you should in such a public place, rolling your hips up to meet him. He grunts appreciatively, grabbing your thigh and wrapping your leg around his slender waist. Your hand runs up his chest and around his neck, burying your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. His nose brushes up against yours as he pushes his way inside your pussy.

He groans, his voice heavy and thick, catching as your warmth envelopes him. You inhale sharply, squeezing around him as he stretches you open to accommodate his size. He’d nearly filled you up, and he lifted his eyes to lock with yours, his mouth hovering above your lips, breathing in your breath before he thrusted in that last final inch. Your hips smashed against the wall, the lights flickering again. You gasped, your breath hitching as your fingernails dug into the sticky skin of his neck. He leaned all of his weight into you, crushing you between his body and the wall; his cock so impossibly thick and deep.

He brushed his nose against yours again, kissing at your top lip and tugging it between his teeth. “Yeh feel good… tight… fuckin’ wet for meh…”

You would’ve liked to tell him that you got wet for him even without him fucking you, tell him that he was the only thought on your mind when the nights were long and lonely; that he was the star of every single one of your fantasies, appearing in your dreams from time-to-time to torture you with his pretty face. He didn’t need to know that though, because right now you were fulfilling _his_ latest fantasy, another girl to keep him him satisfied as he tried you on for size. 

Alex placed his hand on the wall beside your head for leverage, the edge of his Sheffield tattoo just peaking out beneath his rolled cuff. For some reason, that was the image that made it all real for you. This was happening; that thing you’d fantasized about for years was a reality, and you found yourself holding him tighter to you, knotting your fingers tighter and digging deeper. He fucked you slow at first, taking pleasure in the way your breathing stuttered, hitching with every knock of his hips against yours. There were going to be bruises as tokens; souvenirs of a night you never guessed would ever happen in your wildest dreams. He hadn’t taken his eyes of you, blazing bright and steady as they took note of the expressions on your face. 

His hand gripped your thigh harder, his ring cold against your skin as his thumb caressed you. It slid higher and higher until he squeezed your ass, burying himself deep, his head resting in the crook of your neck. The smell of his aftershave permeated the small space the two of you shared, and it made you swallow thickly, trying desperately to commit everything to memory so you could recount it later. Not for anyone else, just for yourself; when the image of him pushed through your thoughts on those lonely nights again. This was going to stay between the two of you, and you hoped he could feel that through your actions, feel the sincerity in the way you touched him, the way you held him. Maybe he thought he was doing you a favor, taking you down some dimly lit hallway with bad electrical wiring to fuck your brains out. But there was a part of you that believed this meant more for him. 

It was something in the way he moved that told you that he wasn’t always like this, that maybe his grandiose, over-the-top stage persona had followed him offstage, giving him the courage to also be someone else for the evening. It broke your heart and turned you on. 

Your foot was slipping on the cement floor; maybe the heels were a bad idea. “Hold on to meh…” He suddenly whispered against your neck, his breath tickling you. 

You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, obeying his request, his bare chest making contact with yours as you pressed together. His hand slid down the wall and lifted your other leg, and you hooked your ankles together behind his back. It allowed him to sink into you deeper and you purred in delight at how snugly you fit together. 

“Better, yeah?” He husked, his fingertips rough as they squeezed your ass. 

You nodded, and he lifted his head to look in your eyes again. He pulled himself out and slammed into you hard, the wall creaking behind, the lights flickering before fizzling out completely. You cried out and he chuckled darkly, “That’s the response I were hopin’ for.”

From that moment on, he was relentless, his cock pumping in and out of you, your hips snapping and crashing together. He pulled you down onto him, grinding up into you, his thickness sliding against your clit at the perfect angle. He was incredible, and not just because of who he was; his lips and hands covering you with kisses and affection in a way you didn’t necessarily expect. 

You kissed his neck and all down his chest, your hands gripping his shoulders, the muscles flexing beneath them. He was stronger than he looked, the way he managed to hold you up without faltering or slipping. 

“Oh _fuck_ …” You moaned, as he slammed into you with quick, sharp thrusts, the tension in his body mounting as he got closer to his orgasm. “… you’re so fucking… so fucking big. Fuck me just like that, baby.”

He growled against your neck, his thrusts more aggressive, more wild and erratic as he pushed you up the wall. Your cries were loud, and they echoed down the dark, empty hall and he sucked in his breath, pounding you harder and harder. He kissed you deep, the bitter taste of the Stella’s he’d had pre-show still lingered in traces on his tongue. There was a bit of you there, too, and the memory of him licking your arousal off his fingers sent a flood of wetness between your thighs. 

“Fuck. So wet…” He groaned, feeling how damp you were, the sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you, making loud, obscene sounds in the quiet hallway. “Yeh gonna cum for meh, yeh? Cum all over meh, babeh.”

Your mouth fell open and you whimpered into his, grinding back into him, creating the perfect friction against your clit. You pulled at his hair and he moaned, his hips rucking against you harder, grunting as he approached his orgasm. 

“It’s fuckin’… m’gonna…” You felt him pulsing inside you, swelling up as he prepared to explode, and it was all too much; the smell and the taste of him making your head swim. Your body felt electric, stinging like lightning as your hips crashed together. He hit your spot over and over and over again, inviting you to come undone for him. 

You cried out his name into the dark, whimpering it repeatedly as you felt him cum hard in you, buried deep, a grunt for each thrust of his hips. His cum felt deliciously hot as it filled you up, and you pulsed around him, little electric shockwaves pulling at him, begging him for more. 

He muttered your name into your neck, his chest heaving against yours as the aftershocks trembled through the both of you. He kissed you over and over again, his nose brushing against your ear, his lips tracing the length of your jaw. It was getting harder to stay wrapped like this now that your body felt like liquid, wanting only to melt down the wall and into his arms. 

Alex stayed inside you for much longer than you thought were necessary for a quick fuck with a perfect stranger. He groaned when he finally slid out of you and set you down on shaky legs, both of you whimpering at the loss. You were damp and wet between your legs still, and he slid his hands over your hips, shimmying your skirt back down and smoothing it in place before tucking himself back inside his trousers.

Breathing in deep, your adjusted your tank, pulling it back up over your bra, glancing up at him once you felt decent again. He was watching you, his big brown eyes wide and curious, that tenderness there that was so unsettling considering the circumstances. He placed a finger beneath your chin and tilted your head up, his eyes sweeping over your face once more before kissing you hard. His tongue lingered, exploring, and it felt more like a hello than a goodbye and you were suddenly very confused.

What was he doing?

“C’mon.” He nodded his head and you wobbled along beside him, regaining your balance, your heels echoing as you rounded the corner. He heaved open a heavy side door that tumbled you both into a deserted brick alley. He didn’t say anything else as he lit up a cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke, being decent enough to not blow it in your direction. He glanced at you again and he covered his mouth, pulling at his lips, frowning like he was having an internal argument in his head.

You licked your lips, wondering what it was exactly that he was contemplating. In a second, you had your answer. He’d boxed you in again, this time the cool bricks against your back. He placed one hand on your neck, other still dangling a cigarette loosely at his side. “Tell meh yeh’ve got nowhere else teh be tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can also [find me on Tumblr](https://hearteyesturner.tumblr.com/).


End file.
